In the one facing
me the sun bleeds
Weapon-like, stabbing with its petals
Lit up by evening
into the room
Like a hand
covering the western sky,
And in the other pane, winter
Behind a dusky
watery splash, snow
On the
ground between misty trees.
You might be wearing a helmet,
And going left, away from the fire's
And going left, away from the fire's
The best option, if you want to see home
Again, your
people, your animals,
The trees in
your yard, if you want to hope
Again that everything turns out best, to sit
Again that everything turns out best, to sit
Where two windows
make the corner
A place to
be, late afternoon,
With the sun
coming up in one,
Going down in flames in the other,
That place
at the back or side of the house
Where the dreams
that life counts upon
Have half a
chance to find you.